


cherries are my only incentive (and your lips)

by americananirvana



Series: fruit related [3]
Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alcoholism, Angry Josh, Angst, Anxiety, Bad Coping Methods, Drug Abuse, Flashbacks, Fluff, High School, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Smut, M/M, Mental Illness, Sad Josh, Slight Violence, Tysh, cherries, i cant stop writing them, josh x tyler - Freeform, joshler - Freeform, joshler fanfiction, please give it a chance!, this is another one of those fruit fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 08:57:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13478049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/americananirvana/pseuds/americananirvana
Summary: in which tyler fucked up, and josh orders a maraschino cherry with every drink.





	cherries are my only incentive (and your lips)

**Author's Note:**

> this is to make up for my last fic which was terrible  
> this was mildly inspired by edy, as always

any day that josh thinks about high school is not a good day.

its barely 6:30 pm when josh storms his way through the bar door and collapses into a stool.

the bartender walks towards him hesistantly.

"rough night?"

josh groans.

"vodka. just get me some fucking vodka. and put a maraschino cherry on it."

the bartender, whos nametag reads mark, gives him a weird look, but gets him his drink anyways.

the bar is too fucking warm, with the alcohol flooding his system. he shudders but doesn't dare to take his stupid leather jacket off. it's the only protection he has.

the bottle of pills rattles in his pocket as he waves mark over again.

mark raises his eyebrows at him, and josh glares.

"get me anything. keep it going. i don't give a fuck what it is, just put a fucking cherry on it."

mark sighs and takes josh's empty glass.

 

mark is pretty sure his eyebrows have disappeared into his forehead.

it's 9:30 now, and josh is still going, and somehow speaking coherently.

the counter in front of josh is covered with cherry stems and the couple to the right of him gives him a disdainful look.

by closing time, josh is slumped onto the counter, face buried in his arms, surrounded by glasses that he drank faster than mark could clean.

"hey, buddy," mark nudges gently at the strange customer's arm.

josh's speech is slurred. mark isn't surprised.

"go 'way."

mark doesn't have the fucking patience to deal with this bullshit.

"come on, dude. put your arm around your shoulder. i can already feel the hangover you're gonna have in the morning."

josh mumbles, but manages to stand, leaning heavily on the counter.

mark doesn't know why he's taking the most problematic customer he's had all month back to his flat, but there's a first for everything, he supposes.

 

josh woke up feeling like he got ran over by a horse. multiple horses.

he groaned and rolled onto his side, digging around in his pockets for his phone.

27%. not too bad.

his meds are in his other pocket. its probably been long enough to take them. he's fine.

he's fine.

he isn't sure where he is. frankly, he doesn't care. he spells out the words "thank you" using a decorative bowl of stones on the kitchen counter.

what a stupid fucking decoration. a bowl of rocks. might as well just put a pineapple on your table and call it a centerpiece.

it takes josh 3 minutes to figure out to unlock the front door, and honestly he'd rather stay inside a strangers house than to go out into the sunshine, but he doesn't have a choice.

tyler joseph is the first thought in his mind as he stumbles out onto the sidewalk, and he knows this is going to be a long and painful walk.

 

he manages to find his apartment complex. he doesn't have his keys.

he goes in through the fire escape. he misses a step, but his body is too exhausted. his heart doesn't bother speeding up.

he barely has enough willpower to plug his phone in, just noticing a new crack running diagonal across the screen.

"fuck." he collapses on the couch.

 

its dark when he wakes up again.

he feels like he's been run over by a smaller amount of horses. maybe two or three.

two calls from jenna, one from brendon, and five from debby.

josh gets the odd feeling like his mom has called him and he didn't pick up.

he calls debby back first. she picks up on the second ring.

"hi josh! good of you to call me and let me know you aren't fucking dead!" the words are harsh but her tone is gentle. she's considerate. she doesn't speak loudly.

"deb, i'm sorry."

"josh."

"i really am."

"i can't keep having this conversation with you. i'm concerned about you, j. this isn't healthy."

josh falls back onto his couch and throws an arm over his face.

"yeah, no shit. stop berating me and tell me how to get help." his voice creaks. it hurts.

debby is silent. maybe he was too harsh.

her sigh crackles over the phone.

"sleep some more. i'll pick you up around 11 am tomorrow."

josh is silent for a second. his hand drags down his face.

"11:30?"

debby hangs up. josh plugs his phone in again, even though it's at 99%. he sleeps.

he sleeps through 11:30.

debby texts him.

tomorrow. 11.

he reads it and doesn't reply. he sets an alarm for 10:30 and drinks water straight from the tap in the kitchen.

he doesn't sleep. he goes through twitter and likes dallon's tweets about his new band and scrolls through the trending about stranger things. he likes eleven.

tyler joseph shows up in his timeline. he shoves a pillow over his face and screams. it hurts, and he gets up to drink more water from the tap.

debby shows up at 10:57. josh is bleary eyed and disheveled, but he gets in the car and mumbles his apologies and tries to swallow the anxiety sticking to the inside of his throat.

debby pats his thigh. it's awkward, but she still manages to be comforting.

josh's leg bounces up and down and debby turns on the radio.

mindless pop. josh hums along and debby tries to put in the address for the rehabilitation center into the gps with one hand.

debby's phone is connected to the car by bluetooth. jenna calls.

"hey babe!" jenna's voice is cheerful. the quality of the call is too bad for josh to tell if it's genuine.

"hey, jen. i'm driving josh to rehab right now."

josh says hi.

"josh, darling. how are you feeling?" the concern is real.

josh scratches lightly at his thigh. jenna never fails to soothe him. debby turns abruptly and curses softly at the gps. josh head knocks into the window.

"i'm fine." he doesn't sound fine.

"i hope this helps you, love. i really do."

"thanks, jen." there's a lump in his throat.

debby walks him in the door and he tries to memorize the last reassuring glance she sends him and the gentle scrape of her fingernails against his shoulder.

the receptionist has hair just like jenna's, and he clings on to that as she starts talking.

 

josh's fingernails are digging uncomfortably into his palm. he feels his toes curl inside his sneakers.

tyler seems like he's in a similar state. josh sees the beat up toe of his shoe twitch.

josh's fingernails are too short to make him bleed. tyler is gaunt, sad. his ankles are showing, and he shuffles a foot on the red carpet. tyler's mouth opens, closes, and opens again.

"i- josh,"

and josh uncurls his toes and flies down the hall, cursing his bad luck, cursing god, cursing karma, cursing tyler's hoarse voice following him down the hall,

josh, josh, josh, josh.

some voice in his brain is screaming. what the fuck, what the fuck, what are the fucking chances, wake up, wake the fuck up

josh slams face first into a wall and light flashes, too bright, blinding, and it sends him directly to sleep.

 

josh wakes with a pounding headache, he feels like he's been run over by a dozen horses. his pants are still on and his phone is at 72%.

not bad, and he tries to get up and instant yelling corrodes his brain.

"lie down, lie down." the voice is feminine, but it's too high to be debby or jenna. her hair looks like jenna's.

"you're okay, just lie down. just sleep." long nails scrape through his hair, and he goes to sleep again.

josh wakes with a pounding headache, and he feels like he's been run over by at least five horses. he's still wearing pants and his phone is at 70%.

blonde hair and long nails soothe him again.

the next time he wakes up, his head isn't pounding. the room lacks the jenna look-a-like, so josh gets up and walks, and crosses his fingers that he doesn't find tyler.

he finds tyler.

tyler's ankles are covered by checkered socks this time. josh's toes don't curl. instead, he furrows his eyebrows.

josh pulls his sleeves down, and his bare foot scrapes on the dirty carpeting.

"why are you here?"

tyler's toes curl in his socks and his tongue seeks his top lip nervously.

"i- uh. the pills, i took too many, uh."

josh wants to scream, wants to laugh, wants to stand on his bare toes, wants to fall on his knees to thank karma. he wants to say i told you so.

josh slips his phone out of his pocket and shoves past tyler.

he curses tyler's hoarse voice whispering after him, i took too many.

he texts debby first. he knows she'll tell jenna.

tyler's here.

she doesn't question him, doesn't doubt him. debby is typing within seconds of him sending the message.

what for?

take a wild guess.

debby sends him the thinking emoji and the rolling eyes emoji.

josh checks the time on his phone and walks, bare feet, to his first group therapy.

 

the next time he sees tyler is in the bathroom. josh's fingernails are short, and he turns to tyler at the sink and his lips form "fuck you" but no sound leaves his lips.

tyler keeps washing his hands so josh shoves him into the sink and walks into a restroom stall. he's wearing shoes this time.

tyler's ankles are bare.

 

they pass each other in the hall, and josh glares and tyler rubs his stomach absentmindly. josh's knees are showing, and tyler's socks have the mona lisa on them. the carpet snatches on to tyler's socks, and he trips.

josh keeps walking.

 

he passes tyler in the hall again.

"fuck you."

its under the breath and josh's bleeding lips do not move, and josh curls his toes and breathes.

tyler ducks his head.

debby texts him and tells him to take tyler with him once he gets out of rehab so they can talk things out. debby texts him and says she'll let him start eating maraschino cherries again if he talks to tyler.

josh is on step 9 of the 12 step recovery program, and josh says okay, and josh's toes curl.

debby drops his car off at the parking lot. she sticks a jar of maraschino cherries in the driver's seat, and tyler watches him with curious eyes as josh eats one and he doesn't flinch, and he savors it, and josh is okay.

josh gets on the highway, and josh drives and drives and passes his apartment, and tyler's shoulder bumps against the door.

within 15 minutes, josh is laughing, struggling to keep the car going straight, almost slamming his forehead on the horn.

tyler stares at his toes and scratches at his bare knee.

josh chokes, and josh snorts.

"karma, karma, karma." his voice stings. the bumblebees do not like tyler.

"fuck you." tyler is listless. there's no intent behind the words.

josh laughs some more.

"bet you regret it now, huh?"

josh's pills rattle in the car door as he switches lanes.

 

josh is 18, he's in his last year of high school, and he's shaking out of his damn mind.

josh is 18, he has severe anxiety, and he's digging through his black jansport backpack, trying to find his prescribed xanax, shaking out of his mind.

josh is 18, and he's struggling to breathe as he slides slowly to the floor, and his backpack does not rattle as it drops to the floor.

tyler is 17, and tyler has smoked weed, and tyler has shotgunned a beer, and tyler wants to know what xanax is like.

josh is 18, and his dad is yelling at him, but begrudgingly gives him a hug and tells him not to worry.

josh is 18, and he keeps his pill bottles zipped up in his stupid leather jacket, and he shakes and rattles when he walks, warning.

don't come near me.

josh is 18, and he finds his empty prescription bottle in plain sight on tyler's nightstand.

tyler is 17, and he doesn't understand why josh is turning to look at him with the void behind his eyes, he doesn't understand why the color is fading out of josh's face, doesn't understand why josh digs the heels of his palms into his chest and knocks him into the ground.

josh kicks tyler in the side, toes curled, fingernails digging into his palms and tyler's ankles are bare.

"i have anxiety, you sick fuck," and josh is running a sleeve over his face, running out of the room, leaving tyler's heart to drop into his bruised stomach.

tyler's mom knocks on the door josh slammed, and tyler winces, and says it's okay.

it isn't okay.

 

josh is 25, and he spends his days waking up in stranger's houses, head pounding, the faint taste of maraschino cherries in his mouth.

josh is 25, and he spends his days passing out at bars and getting used to bright flashes that send him straight to sleep.

josh is 25, and he's used to firstly checking if he has his pants on, used to checking his phone battery, used to painful walks and missing steps on a fire escape.

josh is 26, and he's driving the subject of his haunted dreams, of his drunken ramblings, in his car, with a jar of cherries in the cup holder.

josh's car is missing the radio.

and josh finally stops laughing, and tyler looks at him,

"im sorry."

and josh smiles, bitter.

tyler's fingers curl up and he scratches at his left hand.

"josh, im sorry."

and josh changes lanes, tyler's head knocks against the window, and josh heads back towards his apartment.

tyler slips a cherry from the jar.

 

josh has the keys, and he leads tyler through hallways with blue carpeting. both of them are wearing shoes, and tyler cradles the jar like a baby.

tyler puts the jar next to the flowers jenna probably stole from some poor grandma and left on josh's counter.

and tyler falls into bed next to josh, loose shirt, boxers, ankles bare. tyler looks fuller.

josh's leather jacket is laid over a desk chair, and josh gets on top of tyler, hovering above him on hands and knees.

his eyes are burning liquid even in the dark, and tyler is melting into the mattress.

josh pins his hands down by interlocking them with his. the weight hurts, and josh's elbows shake.

josh leans down to nose at him first, leaves a light kiss on his jawline, his nose skims up tyler's throat.

his lips are all encompassing when they reach tyler's, teeth clacking. tyler is eager, licking into josh's mouth fast.

josh pulls back. his weight lifts off tyler's hands, and he stares at tyler with those liquid eyes. tyler is a puddle soaking through the bed.

"you ruined me, tyler."

josh's hands pull out of tyler's and tyler's fingers scrabble and curl.

"why would you do that?"

josh's hands slide down and pin his wrists to the mattress.

tyler tilts his head, the column of his neck wide open. his voice is soft, soaked in something unrecognizable yet familiar.

"please." the word caresses josh's face and runs blunt nails through his hair. tyler already misses the taste of josh's mouth.

josh's mouth tastes like cherries, and josh makes tyler's toes curl.

 

josh wakes up, and his head is clear and calm. his pants are off, but his phone is at 100%.

tyler is curled into his chest, large tshirt, cold feet stuffed into fuzzy socks.

josh texts debby with one hand and runs the other through tyler's hair.

worked things out.

it takes debby two minutes to respond.

let me know when you run out of cherries.

josh pulls up stranger things on his phone, and waits for tyler to wake up.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading.  
> leave a comment pretty please?
> 
> tumblr: washedouteyes


End file.
